The older kids would play or color or build-with-Legos while I read aloud to them.
The older kids would read books to themselves on their own.
The doctors told us Maggie would never read for fun, for enjoyment. They told us that kids with VCFS learn rudimentary reading skills, but their comprehension is abysmal. Well, phooey on that. Maggie continued to increase in her reading ability. Then, a couple of years ago, she accidentally discovered something that helped even more.
If someone reads aloud ... and the listener has her own copy of the book -- two things happen.
a) The listener's reading skill increases. ("Oh, that's how you pronounce that word!" Also, a better understanding of how words are grouped into phrases. And much more.)
b) The listener's comprehension of what is heard-with-the-ears increases because of what is seen-with-the-eyes.
Now we're to the point that Maggie always wants to search out of second copy of Anne or whatever-we're-reading. Hooray for a big library system!
Tuesday, October 07, 2014
Monday, October 06, 2014
He Remembers That We Are Dust
Step on an ant or a beetle. Crunch!
Swat a mosquito, and get blood on your hand.
Swat a fly with force, because it requires some smashing.
But swat a moth?
You barely have to touch it.
It doesn't leave a blood stain on the wall.
It practically turns to dust.
That always amazes me. Moths are so dry. There's nothing to them. They are so easy to do away with. And they're like powder. Like dust.
The Lord remembers that we are dust.
But we don't. We think we've got substance. We think we've got strength. We think we've got lasting-power. We think it takes somethin' big to knock us out.
But we are dust.
And the Lord is gentle with us dry dusties.
Swat a mosquito, and get blood on your hand.
Swat a fly with force, because it requires some smashing.
But swat a moth?
You barely have to touch it.
It doesn't leave a blood stain on the wall.
It practically turns to dust.
That always amazes me. Moths are so dry. There's nothing to them. They are so easy to do away with. And they're like powder. Like dust.
"He knows our frame.
He remembers that we are dust" (Ps 103).
The Lord remembers that we are dust.
But we don't. We think we've got substance. We think we've got strength. We think we've got lasting-power. We think it takes somethin' big to knock us out.
But we are dust.
And the Lord is gentle with us dry dusties.
"As a father pities his children,
so the Lord pities those who fear Him."
Sunday, October 05, 2014
He Remembered the Word of the Lord
Jesus said Peter would deny Him. Peter said, "No way. Ain't gonna happen. I'll stick by You, even if it means prison or dying." That's when Jesus told Peter, "Before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times" (Luke 22:34).
Hours later, when Peter had --sure enough-- denied Jesus three times, the rooster crowed. And then Peter remembered the word of the Lord (verse 61).
I always thought that verse meant Peter remembered the prediction of his failing.
And only that.
Pastor pointed out in class this week that there was more to the conversation: look back at verse 32. Jesus had also said, "I have prayed for you." That's no small thing, no impotent thing, that Jesus prayed for Peter.
Jesus had also said, "When you have returned to Me." In other words, Peter would indeed be restored. He would be forgiven. He would be brought to repentance and placed back in the office of apostle. "When you have returned to Me."
When Peter "remembered the word of the Lord," there was also a word of faithfulness from Jesus mixed in with the statement of Peter's unfaithfulness. It is God who gives faith, works faith, and sustains faith. "The God of peace Himself will sanctify you wholly and keep your spirit, soul, and body sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who called you is faithful, and He will do it."
Hours later, when Peter had --sure enough-- denied Jesus three times, the rooster crowed. And then Peter remembered the word of the Lord (verse 61).
I always thought that verse meant Peter remembered the prediction of his failing.
And only that.
Pastor pointed out in class this week that there was more to the conversation: look back at verse 32. Jesus had also said, "I have prayed for you." That's no small thing, no impotent thing, that Jesus prayed for Peter.
Jesus had also said, "When you have returned to Me." In other words, Peter would indeed be restored. He would be forgiven. He would be brought to repentance and placed back in the office of apostle. "When you have returned to Me."
When Peter "remembered the word of the Lord," there was also a word of faithfulness from Jesus mixed in with the statement of Peter's unfaithfulness. It is God who gives faith, works faith, and sustains faith. "The God of peace Himself will sanctify you wholly and keep your spirit, soul, and body sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. He who called you is faithful, and He will do it."
Saturday, October 04, 2014
Wit
A movie about dying of cancer. A professor who is alone, no family, no friends. She agrees to aggressive treatment, for the sake of research, with only a small hope for recovery. An exacting professor who teaches John Donne's poetry. A woman who has little to hang onto other than "Death, Be Not Proud" and her own toughness.
A woman who eventually must face the prospect of her own death. A woman whose only comfort is the gospel (if you can call it that) found in The Runaway Bunny.So very different from Stephen's death. A man surrounded by family, friends, and pastors. A room filled with hymns, prayers, more hymns, liturgy, psalms, and a few more hymns. An image on the wall of Jesus dying on the cross to bear the wages of Steve's sins. A statue of St Michael defeating the dragon-of-old.
Unlike the tough professor in Wit, Pastor Wiest knew long before that he was weak. But His Jesus is strong. As he became weaker at the end, he was given more and more and more of Jesus' word of forgiveness and mercy. "For when I am weak, then am I strong."
Thursday, October 02, 2014
Library Sorting
When Lora was eliminating Stuff from her house before moving overseas, she talked about her books, and how wrenching it is to get rid of books. So many of us look at bookshelves to get an idea of WHO somebody is. Without our books to identify us, people can't get to know us by perusing our bookshelves.
I'm sorting through Pastor's books, making sure they're properly grouped and arranged after his study was moved into a new room. On the one hand, it's fascinating. Oh oh oh -- so many books just begging to be borrowed! On the other hand, the work feels like trespassing, as if I'm butting into somebody's brain.
Of course, as Katie pointed out, her bookshelves don't necessarily reveal things about her; there are other people in her home. And yet, "Goodnight Moon" does reveal something about who Katie is, even if the book is not her top choice in literature for her own personal reading. Same for Pastor: he has books on his shelves about cults and heresy and other errors, alongside the books that refute error and books that are just fabuloso all on their own.
Paid job;
resting my body while sorting at church;
resting my body while doing schoolwork with Mag;
resting my body while goofing off on the computer;
means
not spending as much time cleaning, cooking, blogging, or gardening as I think I "should." So many many chores that are screaming for attention, and I keep scolding myself into trrrrying to lollygag and watch TV and read more. Healing takes time.
I'm sorting through Pastor's books, making sure they're properly grouped and arranged after his study was moved into a new room. On the one hand, it's fascinating. Oh oh oh -- so many books just begging to be borrowed! On the other hand, the work feels like trespassing, as if I'm butting into somebody's brain.
Of course, as Katie pointed out, her bookshelves don't necessarily reveal things about her; there are other people in her home. And yet, "Goodnight Moon" does reveal something about who Katie is, even if the book is not her top choice in literature for her own personal reading. Same for Pastor: he has books on his shelves about cults and heresy and other errors, alongside the books that refute error and books that are just fabuloso all on their own.
Paid job;
resting my body while sorting at church;
resting my body while doing schoolwork with Mag;
resting my body while goofing off on the computer;
means
not spending as much time cleaning, cooking, blogging, or gardening as I think I "should." So many many chores that are screaming for attention, and I keep scolding myself into trrrrying to lollygag and watch TV and read more. Healing takes time.
Thursday, September 25, 2014
Joy, Suffering, and Philippians 1
In Sunday's epistle (3-yr series) Paul was comforting the saints in Philippi with assurances that his imprisonment was for the sake of the Gospel.
Yes, Paul was an example to the other Christians, so that they were emboldened.
But also, he was writing to the church at Philippi. You remember who was a member of that congregation? The Philippian jailer. The guy who'd listened to Paul and Silas singing hymns half the night. The guy on duty during the earthquake when the Lord opened the prison doors. The guy who was going to kill himself, until Paul stopped him. The guy whose whole family was baptized, who welcomed the apostle into their home and treated his wounds and fed these missionaries. The guy who rejoiced (Acts 16:34) in the Gospel.
You want an idea of why Paul could say that his chains are for the furtherance of the Gospel? And that in his chains, they partake with him of grace? And why that resonated with the folks at the church in Philippi? Because they knew, intellectually, emotionally, experientially. They had lived it. They knew this fellow who worked at the jail. They knew his family. They worshiped with him. They cared about him. And this family heard the good news of Jesus' forgiveness because Paul had been unjustly accused, beaten, and imprisoned. Not fun or comfortable for Paul. But cause for rejoicing nonetheless, because there is greater joy in heaven (and in the church militant too) over one sinner who repents.
And there it was again, in Rome: Paul's arrest being a good thing. (So weird. An unfair arrest being good?!) But if anybody would "get it," it'd be the folks at the Philippian church.
In my chains and in the defense and confirmation of the gospel, you all are partakers with me of grace.
I want you to know, brethren, that the things which happened to me have actually turned out for the furtherance of the gospel, so that it has become evident to the whole palace guard, and to all the rest, that my chains are in Christ; and most of the brethren in the Lord, having become confident by my chains, are much more bold to speak the word without fear.Yes, Paul was acting Christlike, to suffer for preaching the forgiveness of sins to those who are not worthy of it.
Yes, Paul was an example to the other Christians, so that they were emboldened.
But also, he was writing to the church at Philippi. You remember who was a member of that congregation? The Philippian jailer. The guy who'd listened to Paul and Silas singing hymns half the night. The guy on duty during the earthquake when the Lord opened the prison doors. The guy who was going to kill himself, until Paul stopped him. The guy whose whole family was baptized, who welcomed the apostle into their home and treated his wounds and fed these missionaries. The guy who rejoiced (Acts 16:34) in the Gospel.
You want an idea of why Paul could say that his chains are for the furtherance of the Gospel? And that in his chains, they partake with him of grace? And why that resonated with the folks at the church in Philippi? Because they knew, intellectually, emotionally, experientially. They had lived it. They knew this fellow who worked at the jail. They knew his family. They worshiped with him. They cared about him. And this family heard the good news of Jesus' forgiveness because Paul had been unjustly accused, beaten, and imprisoned. Not fun or comfortable for Paul. But cause for rejoicing nonetheless, because there is greater joy in heaven (and in the church militant too) over one sinner who repents.
And there it was again, in Rome: Paul's arrest being a good thing. (So weird. An unfair arrest being good?!) But if anybody would "get it," it'd be the folks at the Philippian church.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
A Single Red Branch
Winter's coming.
(Shhhh. Did I really say that? Right out loud? [shudder] I should have my mouth washed out with soap.)
Leaves are changing color.
This year, more than other years, I'm noticing how one branch's leaves will turn red or orange, while the rest of the tree's leaves are still green. It's so patchy. And it's not just one or two trees; many are showing the same pattern. It seems odd.
Then I think of people's hair. How my gray hairs all come from the same small patch on my head. How a man's beard will change with one stripe graying before the rest. How some people will turn gray at their temples first.
Maybe those trees are more like us than I thought.
(Shhhh. Did I really say that? Right out loud? [shudder] I should have my mouth washed out with soap.)
Leaves are changing color.
This year, more than other years, I'm noticing how one branch's leaves will turn red or orange, while the rest of the tree's leaves are still green. It's so patchy. And it's not just one or two trees; many are showing the same pattern. It seems odd.
Then I think of people's hair. How my gray hairs all come from the same small patch on my head. How a man's beard will change with one stripe graying before the rest. How some people will turn gray at their temples first.
Maybe those trees are more like us than I thought.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Roots and Stability
I like to know what to expect.
I don't like not-knowing -- not-knowing about the economy or safety or politics/military action. It makes it hard to plan for the future. It leaves a person unsettled. We're trying to think about our will right now, and whether to set up a trust for Maggie. But who knows what to expect these days? Health care and taxes and who'll be running the country and whether religious persecution will come to our shores -- it's all up for grabs. No certainty. Questions about stability.
In our Bible story recently (Numbers 6), we heard about the Israelites in the wilderness of Sinai. They'd left Egypt a little more than a year earlier. For a change of pace, we hear that they obeyed the Lord. When the pillar of cloud/fire moved, they were to move. And they did. When the pillar of cloud/fire stayed put, the Israelites were supposed to stay in the same spot. And they did.
But what about their expectations? Any one evening, at the end of the day, when the cloud of the Lord's presence settled, the people pitched their tents and started supper ... with no clue whatsoever as to whether they were going to be packing up again the next morning or in a week. Or in a month. Or in a year. They lived day-to-day with no knowledge of the morrow. No certainty. No stability ...
except ...
"the Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer."
I don't like not-knowing -- not-knowing about the economy or safety or politics/military action. It makes it hard to plan for the future. It leaves a person unsettled. We're trying to think about our will right now, and whether to set up a trust for Maggie. But who knows what to expect these days? Health care and taxes and who'll be running the country and whether religious persecution will come to our shores -- it's all up for grabs. No certainty. Questions about stability.
In our Bible story recently (Numbers 6), we heard about the Israelites in the wilderness of Sinai. They'd left Egypt a little more than a year earlier. For a change of pace, we hear that they obeyed the Lord. When the pillar of cloud/fire moved, they were to move. And they did. When the pillar of cloud/fire stayed put, the Israelites were supposed to stay in the same spot. And they did.
But what about their expectations? Any one evening, at the end of the day, when the cloud of the Lord's presence settled, the people pitched their tents and started supper ... with no clue whatsoever as to whether they were going to be packing up again the next morning or in a week. Or in a month. Or in a year. They lived day-to-day with no knowledge of the morrow. No certainty. No stability ...
except ...
"the Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer."
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Crucifix Shopping
Shhh: don't tell the computer or Big Brother. I have figured out how to get NICE ads in the sidebar of my computer. If you go shopping for a few hours on eShakti, they start sending you gazillions of ads. If you keep clicking on them, pretty soon the ads go away that want you to [ahem] meet singles or buy Bounty or subscribe to some liberal magazine.
Tonight I spent a couple of hours looking for crucifixes. On ebay. On Amazon. On various Catholic church-supply sites. And now I have crosses and pretty dresses popping up as ads. Nice!
While shopping, I discovered how
few people knew what a crucifix is. There were plenty of empty crosses listed under "crucifix." There were also the kind that some of our kids received as baptism gifts from the congregation -- the kind with a kneeling child in the center.
"I don't like that cross, Mom! I don't want to die on a cross!"
Uh, yeah, that was when those crosses went away.
I also discovered somebody's crafts: turquoise and yellow beads, strung together like we used to make at summer camp to be key chains or lanyards. In a cross-shape. Turquoise and yellow. Ugly as could be. Mixed in with the crucifixes. Good grief. It takes a lot of sifting to shop for something online.
PS: If you need an introductory coupon for eShakti (which also offers free customizing on first-time orders), let me know. You'll get $25-35 off your first try, and I'll get a $10 referral coupon.
Tonight I spent a couple of hours looking for crucifixes. On ebay. On Amazon. On various Catholic church-supply sites. And now I have crosses and pretty dresses popping up as ads. Nice!
While shopping, I discovered how
"I don't like that cross, Mom! I don't want to die on a cross!"
Uh, yeah, that was when those crosses went away.
I also discovered somebody's crafts: turquoise and yellow beads, strung together like we used to make at summer camp to be key chains or lanyards. In a cross-shape. Turquoise and yellow. Ugly as could be. Mixed in with the crucifixes. Good grief. It takes a lot of sifting to shop for something online.
PS: If you need an introductory coupon for eShakti (which also offers free customizing on first-time orders), let me know. You'll get $25-35 off your first try, and I'll get a $10 referral coupon.
Friday, September 19, 2014
Arachnoiditis
When a brain aneurysm ruptures, blood mixes with the cerebrospinal fluid. Your brain doesn't like that. Neither do your nerves. That nice, clean fluid is supposed to protect your nervous system, and blood pollutes it. This can bring on arachnoiditis.
After my little aneurysm problem, I had debilitating pain in my lower back and my legs. Once the doctors figured out the cause of my pain, they knew that the best solution was for the blood to be re-absorbed by the body so that it would be away from the nerves. That meant my getting up to sit and even walk. It also meant lots of pain meds to make it possible for me to sit or stand.
Thinking about how arnica gel had helped so much in healing my bruises (where blood leaked and has to be re-absorbed) I asked my family to bring arnica to the hospital. I can't say for sure that it helped. But I sure felt better when I used it on the sore spots. Of course, the improvement may have been caused by the doctors' treatments, or time, or a combination of many things.
With some recent flare-ups, I'm trying arnica again. I doubt it will help. It doesn't seem reasonable to try, as pain now is residual nerve pain, and not pain from blood currently polluting my CSF. But what would it hurt?
After my little aneurysm problem, I had debilitating pain in my lower back and my legs. Once the doctors figured out the cause of my pain, they knew that the best solution was for the blood to be re-absorbed by the body so that it would be away from the nerves. That meant my getting up to sit and even walk. It also meant lots of pain meds to make it possible for me to sit or stand.
Thinking about how arnica gel had helped so much in healing my bruises (where blood leaked and has to be re-absorbed) I asked my family to bring arnica to the hospital. I can't say for sure that it helped. But I sure felt better when I used it on the sore spots. Of course, the improvement may have been caused by the doctors' treatments, or time, or a combination of many things.
With some recent flare-ups, I'm trying arnica again. I doubt it will help. It doesn't seem reasonable to try, as pain now is residual nerve pain, and not pain from blood currently polluting my CSF. But what would it hurt?
Thursday, September 18, 2014
Is the Ancient Definition of Marriage Bigoted?
"Same-Sex Marriage and Interracial Marriage" was a recent topic on Issues Etc. [Excuse me: why isn't anybody putting quote-marks around that word anymore? A year or two ago, it was same-sex "marriage."]
Two points stuck out. First -- never, in all the world's history, in any culture, was a same-sex union considered to be marriage. Even in cultures that accepted homosexuality as just another option, nobody considered that relationship to be marriage.
Second -- what about the charge that those who oppose same-sex unions are just like the bigots who opposed interracial marriage? The speaker pointed out that that kind of bigotry was never about the essence or definition of marriage. It was always about racial "purity" and guarding whiteness. It was about the hatred that wanted to prevent mixing races. But the argument then was never about what marriage IS. The arguments today are not about who can and can't get married (although some say that it is); the argument today is about what marriage is.
Two points stuck out. First -- never, in all the world's history, in any culture, was a same-sex union considered to be marriage. Even in cultures that accepted homosexuality as just another option, nobody considered that relationship to be marriage.
Second -- what about the charge that those who oppose same-sex unions are just like the bigots who opposed interracial marriage? The speaker pointed out that that kind of bigotry was never about the essence or definition of marriage. It was always about racial "purity" and guarding whiteness. It was about the hatred that wanted to prevent mixing races. But the argument then was never about what marriage IS. The arguments today are not about who can and can't get married (although some say that it is); the argument today is about what marriage is.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Music Appreciation
Oh, the grand plans that homeschool moms come up with! And how hard to execute all those lesson plans!
I was intrigued by the program used by our congregation's school. The Brummitt-Taylor Music Listening Program includes 131 music selections. The concept reminds me of the Five-in-a-Row curriculum for little kids: choose something good [be it kiddy-lit or a piece of classical music] and repeat it daily for a week. I've been wanting to develop my own list of music to be used in a similar way:
just a few minutes a day
just listening -- no projects or study
repeated exposure
This is what I've come up with. Our plan at this point is to use each piece for half a month, and not necessarily in the order listed here. I'm including you-tube links, but there are multiple places to find the pieces, online or through purchased CD's. We will not have the script offered with the B-T program, nor their comprehensive list, but I'm telling myself that familiarizing ourselves with some classical pieces is better than nothing. At the rate of 2-3 pieces per month, I've got two years worth of plans here.
Rossini: Barber of Seville -- Figaro's Aria
Britten: Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra (2-minute intro)
(full version)
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Summer
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Autumn
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Winter
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Spring
Bach: Air on the G string
Handel: Xerxes -- Largo
Purcell: Trumpet Tune and Air
Charpentier: Prelude in D-major to "Te Deum"
Handel: Water Music Suite #1 -- Air
Handel: Water Music Suite #2 -- Hornpipe
Chopin: Minute Waltz
Rossini: William Tell Overture -- Finale
Mozart: Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Serenade #13 for strings in G minor
Bizet: Carmen -- Overture
Bach: Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring
Clarke: Trumpet Voluntary
Copland: Rodeo -- Hoe-down (beef commercial)
Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D minor
Tchaikovsky: 1812 Overture
Beethoven: Fur Elise
Sousa: Stars and Stripes Forever
Liszt: Hungarian Rhapsody
Tom & Jerry's Hungarian Rhapsody
Bach: Wake, Awake
Mendelssohn: Wedding March
Wagner: Wedding Chorus (Here Comes the Bride)
Wagner: Ride of the Valkyries
Gershwin: I Got Rhythm
Mouret: Fanfare Rondeau (Masterpiece Theater theme)
Brahms: Lullaby
Levine: Fanfare for the Common Man
Grieg: Peer Gynt (from Mountain King)
Grieg: In the Hall of the Mountain King (another version)
Offenbach: Can Can Music
Bach: Bouree from Lute Suite -- BWV 996
Debussy: Claire de lune
Schumann: The Merry Peasant
Delibes: Sylvia -- Pizzicato
Shastakovich: The Second Waltz
Albinoni: Adagio in G minor
Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake Ballet
Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite -- March
Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite -- Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy
Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite -- Waltz of the Flowers
Handel: The Messiah -- For Unto Us a Child Is Born
Handel: The Messiah -- He Shall Feed His Flock
Handel: The Messiah -- He Was Despised
Handel: The Messiah -- I Know That My Redeemer Liveth
Handel: The Messiah -- Hallelujah Chorus
Vivaldi: Double Concerto in D minor for two oboes
Mozart: Symphony #40 in G minor K 550
Mozart: Piano Concerto 21 -- Andante
Pachelbel: Canon in D Major
Mozart: The Magic Flute -- The Bird-Catcher
Beethoven: 9th Symphony, 4th movement
Prokofiev: Peter and the Wolf March
Ravel: Bolero
Mendelssohn: Song Without Words
Dvorak: New World Symphony, part 1, 4th movement
Khan Academy on Dvorak's New World Symphony
Beethoven: 5th Symphony
Khan Academy on Beethoven's 5th Symphony, part 1
Khan Academy on Beethoven's 5th Symphony, part 2
Khan Academy on Beethoven's 5th Symphony, part 3
Haydn: Symphony no. 6, movement 1
Listening guide to Haydn's Symphony #6
Stravinsky: Firebird Suite Finale
Khan Academy on the Firebird Suite
Glenda steered me in the direction of Harmony Fine Arts that could be used to supplement and deepen the simplistic list I've gathered.
Cheryl offered some ideas, as well as pointing out "52 Most Important Classical Works of All Time" which may expand your own list of pieces to include as you learn more about music.
I was intrigued by the program used by our congregation's school. The Brummitt-Taylor Music Listening Program includes 131 music selections. The concept reminds me of the Five-in-a-Row curriculum for little kids: choose something good [be it kiddy-lit or a piece of classical music] and repeat it daily for a week. I've been wanting to develop my own list of music to be used in a similar way:
just a few minutes a day
just listening -- no projects or study
repeated exposure
This is what I've come up with. Our plan at this point is to use each piece for half a month, and not necessarily in the order listed here. I'm including you-tube links, but there are multiple places to find the pieces, online or through purchased CD's. We will not have the script offered with the B-T program, nor their comprehensive list, but I'm telling myself that familiarizing ourselves with some classical pieces is better than nothing. At the rate of 2-3 pieces per month, I've got two years worth of plans here.
Rossini: Barber of Seville -- Figaro's Aria
Britten: Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra (2-minute intro)
(full version)
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Summer
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Autumn
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Winter
Vivaldi: Four Seasons -- Spring
Bach: Air on the G string
Handel: Xerxes -- Largo
Purcell: Trumpet Tune and Air
Charpentier: Prelude in D-major to "Te Deum"
Handel: Water Music Suite #1 -- Air
Handel: Water Music Suite #2 -- Hornpipe
Chopin: Minute Waltz
Rossini: William Tell Overture -- Finale
Mozart: Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, Serenade #13 for strings in G minor
Bizet: Carmen -- Overture
Bach: Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring
Clarke: Trumpet Voluntary
Copland: Rodeo -- Hoe-down (beef commercial)
Bach: Toccata and Fugue in D minor
Tchaikovsky: 1812 Overture
Beethoven: Fur Elise
Sousa: Stars and Stripes Forever
Liszt: Hungarian Rhapsody
Tom & Jerry's Hungarian Rhapsody
Bach: Wake, Awake
Mendelssohn: Wedding March
Wagner: Wedding Chorus (Here Comes the Bride)
Wagner: Ride of the Valkyries
Gershwin: I Got Rhythm
Mouret: Fanfare Rondeau (Masterpiece Theater theme)
Brahms: Lullaby
Levine: Fanfare for the Common Man
Grieg: Peer Gynt (from Mountain King)
Grieg: In the Hall of the Mountain King (another version)
Offenbach: Can Can Music
Bach: Bouree from Lute Suite -- BWV 996
Debussy: Claire de lune
Schumann: The Merry Peasant
Delibes: Sylvia -- Pizzicato
Shastakovich: The Second Waltz
Albinoni: Adagio in G minor
Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake Ballet
Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite -- March
Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite -- Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy
Tchaikovsky: The Nutcracker Suite -- Waltz of the Flowers
Handel: The Messiah -- For Unto Us a Child Is Born
Handel: The Messiah -- He Shall Feed His Flock
Handel: The Messiah -- He Was Despised
Handel: The Messiah -- I Know That My Redeemer Liveth
Handel: The Messiah -- Hallelujah Chorus
Vivaldi: Double Concerto in D minor for two oboes
Mozart: Symphony #40 in G minor K 550
Mozart: Piano Concerto 21 -- Andante
Pachelbel: Canon in D Major
Mozart: The Magic Flute -- The Bird-Catcher
Beethoven: 9th Symphony, 4th movement
Prokofiev: Peter and the Wolf March
Ravel: Bolero
Mendelssohn: Song Without Words
Dvorak: New World Symphony, part 1, 4th movement
Khan Academy on Dvorak's New World Symphony
Beethoven: 5th Symphony
Khan Academy on Beethoven's 5th Symphony, part 1
Khan Academy on Beethoven's 5th Symphony, part 2
Khan Academy on Beethoven's 5th Symphony, part 3
Haydn: Symphony no. 6, movement 1
Listening guide to Haydn's Symphony #6
Stravinsky: Firebird Suite Finale
Khan Academy on the Firebird Suite
Glenda steered me in the direction of Harmony Fine Arts that could be used to supplement and deepen the simplistic list I've gathered.
Cheryl offered some ideas, as well as pointing out "52 Most Important Classical Works of All Time" which may expand your own list of pieces to include as you learn more about music.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Women Soldiers?
Today's Bible story in chapel was the beginning of Numbers, where God told Moses to take a census of the Israelites. Who was to be counted? Not everyone. Only the males over age 20.
Why? They would be the soldiers, the army.
Pastor asked the kids, "But why only the males?"
After a few answers that were partly true, but not quite to the point, Pastor led them to the key point. "It's about Jesus, folks."
Men protect and guard women. The husband lays down his life for his bride. Real men sacrifice for their families instead of thinking first of themselves. This is what Jesus did for His bride the Church. And pointing to this truth about Jesus, God instructed that the Israelite army would be the men.
Why? They would be the soldiers, the army.
Pastor asked the kids, "But why only the males?"
After a few answers that were partly true, but not quite to the point, Pastor led them to the key point. "It's about Jesus, folks."
Men protect and guard women. The husband lays down his life for his bride. Real men sacrifice for their families instead of thinking first of themselves. This is what Jesus did for His bride the Church. And pointing to this truth about Jesus, God instructed that the Israelite army would be the men.
Mind-Boggling Costs
Maybe I should quit reading this book.
Once upon a time, the insurance salesman was pressing upon Gary and me the importance of planning ahead for the children's college educations. We had to put money aside. College is expensive and getting more expensive. We have to prepare when they're little.
We told him that our financial situation didn't allow it. He still pushed. We said we could put money aside for their college, but that would mean not feeding the munchkins. Don't feed a kid for 16-18 years, and ... you know what? You wouldn't have to pay for college because the kid would've starved to death by then.
Seriously, some financial planners don't seem to understand the financial situation some regular folks are in. (Or maybe we weren't regular folks. Maybe we were really very poor ... and merely passing as middle-class.)
So this book I'm reading talks about making a life-plan for your special-needs child. The author makes some great points. But some parts leave me scratching my head. For example: job-coaching. If your kid needs a job-coach, it may cost $1000-2000 for an evaluation and initial help. Then it would probably run you $50/hour. And the job-coach should be alongside the person the whole time he's working for the first several weeks, then weaning off contact slowly over the course of a few months. Do the math: we're talking about an $8000-10,000 pricetag for someone to help a young adult learn job skills at a half-time fast-food job that pays minimum wage. Hey, I think it would be great to provide that opportunity. But who's got that kind of money?
Similarly, the author talks about the importance of living independently. (Now, his version of "living independently" might be in a group-home, or in an apartment with a full-time care-giver. It's just important, says he, that the special-needs person NOT live with parents.) Here too, he makes some good points -- particularly when he says that a child may outlive the parents and will then have to face independent living during a time of mourning and other upheaval. But the price-tag here too is eye-popping. He's talking about $35,000--50,000 per year for room and board. For one person!
Several chapters into the book, I cut to the last page. In the conclusion, the author admits, "It is not easy, and for some, limited by economic circumstances and insolvable constraints, their hopes and dreams for their child may not be possible."
Exactly.
So do I keep reading, in hopes of finding a few helpful tidbits?
Also, I had to laugh at the section where he's talking about how to choose a good financial planner. It's really important that we find someone who can give a good estimate of investment returns because, oh, y'know, regular folks like us can't figure that out very well.
Far as I can see, over the last 10-15 years, no financial planner has done a very good job finding high-returning investments. Loads of people were assured returns of 10%, or even 15-25% annually, and are now getting returns of 1-4%.
So if we can't provide for ourselves, much less continue to provide for our children after our deaths, I guess maybe, just maybe, we'll be reduced [gasp!] to praying, "Give us this day our daily bread." In our home, we haven't gone hungry yet, and objectively there's no way we should still be afloat financially. God has provided. Remember when the Lord Jesus took those five loaves and two fish and fed thousands? Yeah, He still does stuff like that.
Once upon a time, the insurance salesman was pressing upon Gary and me the importance of planning ahead for the children's college educations. We had to put money aside. College is expensive and getting more expensive. We have to prepare when they're little.
We told him that our financial situation didn't allow it. He still pushed. We said we could put money aside for their college, but that would mean not feeding the munchkins. Don't feed a kid for 16-18 years, and ... you know what? You wouldn't have to pay for college because the kid would've starved to death by then.
Seriously, some financial planners don't seem to understand the financial situation some regular folks are in. (Or maybe we weren't regular folks. Maybe we were really very poor ... and merely passing as middle-class.)
So this book I'm reading talks about making a life-plan for your special-needs child. The author makes some great points. But some parts leave me scratching my head. For example: job-coaching. If your kid needs a job-coach, it may cost $1000-2000 for an evaluation and initial help. Then it would probably run you $50/hour. And the job-coach should be alongside the person the whole time he's working for the first several weeks, then weaning off contact slowly over the course of a few months. Do the math: we're talking about an $8000-10,000 pricetag for someone to help a young adult learn job skills at a half-time fast-food job that pays minimum wage. Hey, I think it would be great to provide that opportunity. But who's got that kind of money?
Similarly, the author talks about the importance of living independently. (Now, his version of "living independently" might be in a group-home, or in an apartment with a full-time care-giver. It's just important, says he, that the special-needs person NOT live with parents.) Here too, he makes some good points -- particularly when he says that a child may outlive the parents and will then have to face independent living during a time of mourning and other upheaval. But the price-tag here too is eye-popping. He's talking about $35,000--50,000 per year for room and board. For one person!
Several chapters into the book, I cut to the last page. In the conclusion, the author admits, "It is not easy, and for some, limited by economic circumstances and insolvable constraints, their hopes and dreams for their child may not be possible."
Exactly.
So do I keep reading, in hopes of finding a few helpful tidbits?
Also, I had to laugh at the section where he's talking about how to choose a good financial planner. It's really important that we find someone who can give a good estimate of investment returns because, oh, y'know, regular folks like us can't figure that out very well.
Far as I can see, over the last 10-15 years, no financial planner has done a very good job finding high-returning investments. Loads of people were assured returns of 10%, or even 15-25% annually, and are now getting returns of 1-4%.
So if we can't provide for ourselves, much less continue to provide for our children after our deaths, I guess maybe, just maybe, we'll be reduced [gasp!] to praying, "Give us this day our daily bread." In our home, we haven't gone hungry yet, and objectively there's no way we should still be afloat financially. God has provided. Remember when the Lord Jesus took those five loaves and two fish and fed thousands? Yeah, He still does stuff like that.
Monday, September 15, 2014
Toward the End of Summer
 |
| Now, THIS is the way to do schoolwork! (Although her chair was in the shade, mine was in the sunshine.) |
 | ||
| But, ... but, ... but ... hostas and sedum aren't supposed to be blooming anywhere close to the same time. They should bloom two months apart. This is SOME weird weather. |
PS: In case anyone cares [Cheryl] this is blogpost #4000.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Defined by Your Job?
A job is a significant part of our lives. It is where we spend most of our waking hours. It is a place where we meet people and form cooperative relationships. It is a place where we can be part of a team, working with others for a common purpose. It is a place where we form friendships and social networks. It is an opportunity, hopefully, to identify with a respected organization and its contribution to the community. Many of us define ourselves by our careers. A job or career is a source of self-esteem, extrinsic and intrinsic reward, and independence. A job is the most visible and definitive way one take his or her rightful place in the community.
The Complete Guide to Creatinga Special Needs Life Plan, p 109by Hal Wright
So much of this assertion is true.
And yet, I find it disturbing that JOB (not family and not what happens at church) is taken for granted as what defines us. No wonder stay-at-home moms have "no worth" in the eyes of American society.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Dementia or Delirium?
Delirium -- similar to dementia, but worse, and starts in a day or so instead of worsening over the course of weeks, months, or years. May include hallucinations, agitation, severe confusion, dizziness and falling.
So come to find out, urinary tract infections are often misdiagnosed in the elderly. Often the typical UTI symptoms are non-existent in the elderly or those with Parkinsons. It's important for family and care-givers to recognize that "sudden-onset dementia" may be a sign of UTI. Of course, it may be something else, and it's always important to figure out. But UTI is one of those things that doesn't quickly come to mind as an explanation for Grandpa's sudden and severe confusion.
So come to find out, urinary tract infections are often misdiagnosed in the elderly. Often the typical UTI symptoms are non-existent in the elderly or those with Parkinsons. It's important for family and care-givers to recognize that "sudden-onset dementia" may be a sign of UTI. Of course, it may be something else, and it's always important to figure out. But UTI is one of those things that doesn't quickly come to mind as an explanation for Grandpa's sudden and severe confusion.
Tuesday, September 09, 2014
Pictures of the Grown-Ups Around Here
Rachel has an
Philip knew there would be a surprised and happy face, so he asked me to make sure to bring the camera to capture The Look. (Most of the photos didn't turn out. Too much blurring from the jumping up and down and squealing.)
I'm now at 18 weeks of hair growth. My hair is long enough now to usually look like
a) a 7-yr-old boy's "rooster look" or
b) a mohawk
Therefore, it is usually hidden.
Today it curled fairly nicely. Except for those blasted "Sally Brown flips" over my ears. If my hair would do this most of the time, I think I could give up on the babushkas and hats.
A friend was taking pictures of other people at church, when Gary butted in and heckled her to snap one of him. Man, it turned out nice!
Sunday, September 07, 2014
The Child's Tale
Plumbing leak in the basement.
Very much like July's water problem which turned out to be a plugged line. Probably something flushed that ought not to have been flushed.
After calling the plumber, Maggie and I were discussing the situation in front of the grandkids. Alia (age 5) began asking questions. "Would this happen if piggies were in the toilet?"
"Excuse me? Pigs in the toilet?"
"Toy piggies, Nanna."
"How would toy pigs get into the toilet?"
"Well, one day I was playing in the bathroom. And I was tossing the toy pigs around. They flew through the air and landed in the toilet."
"Alia, if anything EVER goes in the toilet, it would be very helpful if you told us, so we could get it out and not pay the plumber a LOT of money to fix it."
"But I had to go potty. So I did."
"Well, that's good. But do you know how important it is that toys NOT go down the toilet? It is SO important that I would stick my hand into the toilet (even with poop or pee in the toilet) to get the toys out. Because it's very very hard to clean up the mess from a plugged toilet. And it's very expensive."
"But I forgot and I flushed."
"I understand. You didn't know that we shouldn't flush toys. But now you do."
So I thought that was the explanation for our plumbing problems. However ...
a little later,
still before the plumber had arrived,
Alia began to explain the mouse problem.
She had noticed the holes in the wall where the plumbing pipes came through. Apparently, they seemed too big to her, or she had never noticed such a thing before. Whatever the reason, she was convinced these were mouse holes.
"Alia, we don't have mice inside. Those aren't mouse holes. Those are holes for the pipes."
"No, they are mouse holes. You do have mice. I see them sometimes. When I open the cupboard doors, sometimes there are mice in there, looking back at me. YOU don't see it, Nanna. This always happens when you're not there."
[Suspicious story, eh?]
"Alia, we don't have mice inside."
"Nanna! They are in the pipes! That's why you don't see them."
"IN the pipes? Alia, mice cannot get into the pipes."
[sigh] "Yes, they can, Nanna. I know these things! When I see the mice in the cupboards, I look at their faces. There are mice whose faces are hungry-looking. And there are mice whose faces are thirsty-looking. And I can tell the difference! The ones that are thirsty-looking are the ones who get into your pipes. They want a drink of water, Nanna. And then they chew holes in your pipes. That's why there's water leaking out of your pipes."
Riiiiight.
Too bad I know nothing about mice.
I managed not to laugh at the child.
But as I was telling her mother the story? Yeah, we both had a good laugh.
Thing is, after the mice story, I don't put much stock in the pigs-in-the-toilet story either.
And from what the plumber said, the pigs-in-the-toilet story sounds pretty unlikely too. Pigs-in-the-toilet would be a comparatively simple, easy, cheap repair.
Very much like July's water problem which turned out to be a plugged line. Probably something flushed that ought not to have been flushed.
After calling the plumber, Maggie and I were discussing the situation in front of the grandkids. Alia (age 5) began asking questions. "Would this happen if piggies were in the toilet?"
"Excuse me? Pigs in the toilet?"
"Toy piggies, Nanna."
"How would toy pigs get into the toilet?"
"Well, one day I was playing in the bathroom. And I was tossing the toy pigs around. They flew through the air and landed in the toilet."
"Alia, if anything EVER goes in the toilet, it would be very helpful if you told us, so we could get it out and not pay the plumber a LOT of money to fix it."
"But I had to go potty. So I did."
"Well, that's good. But do you know how important it is that toys NOT go down the toilet? It is SO important that I would stick my hand into the toilet (even with poop or pee in the toilet) to get the toys out. Because it's very very hard to clean up the mess from a plugged toilet. And it's very expensive."
"But I forgot and I flushed."
"I understand. You didn't know that we shouldn't flush toys. But now you do."
So I thought that was the explanation for our plumbing problems. However ...
a little later,
still before the plumber had arrived,
Alia began to explain the mouse problem.
She had noticed the holes in the wall where the plumbing pipes came through. Apparently, they seemed too big to her, or she had never noticed such a thing before. Whatever the reason, she was convinced these were mouse holes.
"Alia, we don't have mice inside. Those aren't mouse holes. Those are holes for the pipes."
"No, they are mouse holes. You do have mice. I see them sometimes. When I open the cupboard doors, sometimes there are mice in there, looking back at me. YOU don't see it, Nanna. This always happens when you're not there."
[Suspicious story, eh?]
"Alia, we don't have mice inside."
"Nanna! They are in the pipes! That's why you don't see them."
"IN the pipes? Alia, mice cannot get into the pipes."
[sigh] "Yes, they can, Nanna. I know these things! When I see the mice in the cupboards, I look at their faces. There are mice whose faces are hungry-looking. And there are mice whose faces are thirsty-looking. And I can tell the difference! The ones that are thirsty-looking are the ones who get into your pipes. They want a drink of water, Nanna. And then they chew holes in your pipes. That's why there's water leaking out of your pipes."
Riiiiight.
Too bad I know nothing about mice.
I managed not to laugh at the child.
But as I was telling her mother the story? Yeah, we both had a good laugh.
Thing is, after the mice story, I don't put much stock in the pigs-in-the-toilet story either.
And from what the plumber said, the pigs-in-the-toilet story sounds pretty unlikely too. Pigs-in-the-toilet would be a comparatively simple, easy, cheap repair.
Saturday, September 06, 2014
Recent Events
Desiring to be free of care&upkeep on the deck, we got a bid on a patio instead. Even with Gary doing all the work to dismantle the deck, the bid was eye-popping. So it's time to wash and seal the deck. The weather has not been cooperating: too much rain. Because we must utilize the days when there's no rain forecast, Gary finally consented to allow me to do some of the painting. He is building the deck's fence on his own, though.
Because both our workplaces were closed for Labor Day, we took the opportunity to visit our parents. Drove there one day, visited his dad, drove to my mom's, visited there, and returned the next day.
This week was also our chance to use free tickets to see a Cardinals/Brewers game. I couldn't deny my Cardinal fan the chance to attend the game. We only stayed for part of it, though. I am pokey. And Gary didn't want me getting run over as people exited at the end of the game.
Choir started again this week.
We've been trying to reestablish school routine for Maggie, including her return to Curves. (I'm not ready for that yet.)
Abundant rains have meant more lawn-mowing than usual. Gary has not allowed me to help with that yet.
This weekend we are attending an "ends-in-zero" birthday party of a dear friend. While in that part of town, we will finally (after 3 months!) get the chance to see Rachel and Matt's apartment.
Our plumbing/septic failed. Plumber was here and could not fix the problem. We can take water in, but it has to be carried out of the house. No toilets. The plumber said we wouldn't have to go to a hotel -- implying that any sane person would. I hope this can be repaired Monday ... and not Friday or the following week or whatever. When the repairs are done, that's when we get to clean up sewer-water and sanitize toys and floors and walls and bathtub and shower. Ick.
And next week I extend my "mini-days" (4-hour shifts) at work to "shortened days" (that is, 7-hour shifts).
I was supposed to talk to the library's volunteer coordinator next week about setting up some opportunities for Maggie. Lack of plumbing, though, puts volunteering-arrangements on the back burner. Top priority is being available to the repairmen.
I haven't baked bread in a couple of weeks.
I have done no house-cleaning.
The garden is sorely neglected.
So much happened this week that I'm trying hard now to do nothing.
Because both our workplaces were closed for Labor Day, we took the opportunity to visit our parents. Drove there one day, visited his dad, drove to my mom's, visited there, and returned the next day.
This week was also our chance to use free tickets to see a Cardinals/Brewers game. I couldn't deny my Cardinal fan the chance to attend the game. We only stayed for part of it, though. I am pokey. And Gary didn't want me getting run over as people exited at the end of the game.
Choir started again this week.
We've been trying to reestablish school routine for Maggie, including her return to Curves. (I'm not ready for that yet.)
Abundant rains have meant more lawn-mowing than usual. Gary has not allowed me to help with that yet.
This weekend we are attending an "ends-in-zero" birthday party of a dear friend. While in that part of town, we will finally (after 3 months!) get the chance to see Rachel and Matt's apartment.
Our plumbing/septic failed. Plumber was here and could not fix the problem. We can take water in, but it has to be carried out of the house. No toilets. The plumber said we wouldn't have to go to a hotel -- implying that any sane person would. I hope this can be repaired Monday ... and not Friday or the following week or whatever. When the repairs are done, that's when we get to clean up sewer-water and sanitize toys and floors and walls and bathtub and shower. Ick.
And next week I extend my "mini-days" (4-hour shifts) at work to "shortened days" (that is, 7-hour shifts).
I was supposed to talk to the library's volunteer coordinator next week about setting up some opportunities for Maggie. Lack of plumbing, though, puts volunteering-arrangements on the back burner. Top priority is being available to the repairmen.
I haven't baked bread in a couple of weeks.
I have done no house-cleaning.
The garden is sorely neglected.
So much happened this week that I'm trying hard now to do nothing.
Tuesday, September 02, 2014
Idols Are Bad
There it was again today -- somebody saying that pretty churches and statues are bad. "You shall make no graven images." Interesting timing, based on what I heard in chapel this morning.
Our Bible story was Exodus 32, the Israelites worshiping the golden calf. Pastor was asking the kids questions about idols and false gods. He explained that an idol shows something about God that isn't true. In this story, it wasn't a golden calf that brought the Israelites out of Egypt and saved them from Pharaoh's armies.
But that little explanation, just a smidge of what he was telling the children, summed up so much for me. I remember when my friend, Pastor Wiest, was accused by someone of worshiping idols. Because he wore a crucifix! The person told Pr Wiest, "You aren't supposed to worship idols." He responded, "But this isn't an idol. This is the true God." (Now, I suppose the person could've responded, "That is NOT the true God." But obviously Pastor Wiest did not think that little piece of metal, on a chain around his neck, really was, in itself, God. It was a representation of what God in His gracious love did to save us; it showed something true about God.)
An idol shows something about God that isn't true. That's why it's bad to use a cross necklace simply as a good-luck charm. That would also be why icons are idols for those who believe those saints merited God's favor because of their superb level of good works, but icons are not idols for those who see them as pictures of God's mercy to sinners.
Also, it really confuses me why a certain group of Christians call a crucifix an "idol" but are perfectly okay with empty crosses. Wouldn't a cross be a graven image just as much as a crucifix? Maybe it boils down to their thinking the crucifix shows something about God that isn't true.
Our Bible story was Exodus 32, the Israelites worshiping the golden calf. Pastor was asking the kids questions about idols and false gods. He explained that an idol shows something about God that isn't true. In this story, it wasn't a golden calf that brought the Israelites out of Egypt and saved them from Pharaoh's armies.
An idol shows something about God that isn't true. That's why it's bad to use a cross necklace simply as a good-luck charm. That would also be why icons are idols for those who believe those saints merited God's favor because of their superb level of good works, but icons are not idols for those who see them as pictures of God's mercy to sinners.
Also, it really confuses me why a certain group of Christians call a crucifix an "idol" but are perfectly okay with empty crosses. Wouldn't a cross be a graven image just as much as a crucifix? Maybe it boils down to their thinking the crucifix shows something about God that isn't true.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Truly the Son of God
When Jesus called the storm, rescuing the disciples whose boat was overwhelmed (Matt 14), they responded, "Truly You are the Son of God."
Not long afterward (Matt 16), when Jesus asked them about the rumors of who He was, Peter said, "You are the Son of the living God." This wasn't something Peter said on His own. It was something the Lord revealed to him, as well as something the others said in the boat on that stormy night.
And it was the same thing said by the centurion (Matt 27) on that stormy Friday afternoon.
Not long afterward (Matt 16), when Jesus asked them about the rumors of who He was, Peter said, "You are the Son of the living God." This wasn't something Peter said on His own. It was something the Lord revealed to him, as well as something the others said in the boat on that stormy night.
And it was the same thing said by the centurion (Matt 27) on that stormy Friday afternoon.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
"Confession Is Made Unto Salvation"
God owes me, right?
I'm sure you've heard a take on Romans 10:
[bangs head against the wall]
We can manage to twist anything into salvation-by-works, can't we?
When Peter was sinking in the Sea of Galilee (Matthew 14) he called for help. That is "confessing" the Lord Jesus: "I can do nothing to save myself. Help me!" Even in Romans 10, just a few verses following the quote above, it says the Lord is rich to all who call upon Him.
And when do we call on Him? When we've got a way to please Him? Or when we have no hope in ourselves and are empty-handed beggars?
I'm sure you've heard a take on Romans 10:
If you confess with your mouth the Lord Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and with the mouth confession is made unto salvation.Here ya go; this is what you gotta do; fulfill the above requirements, and you will be saved.
[bangs head against the wall]
We can manage to twist anything into salvation-by-works, can't we?
When Peter was sinking in the Sea of Galilee (Matthew 14) he called for help. That is "confessing" the Lord Jesus: "I can do nothing to save myself. Help me!" Even in Romans 10, just a few verses following the quote above, it says the Lord is rich to all who call upon Him.
And when do we call on Him? When we've got a way to please Him? Or when we have no hope in ourselves and are empty-handed beggars?
Friday, August 29, 2014
Influential Books
Melody tagged me on Facebook to list ten books that have strongly influenced my life. I'm also supposed to tag ten other people to play the game, but I'm being contrary. (And tired.) Thus, no tagging. But you're welcome to play along (on Facebook or on blogs) if you wish.
1. The Bible
2. The Lutheran Hymnal
3. Narnia series -- by C. S. Lewis
4. The Proper Distinction between Law and Gospel -- by Walther
5. Special Delivery -- by Rahima Baldwin
Because although it was about birth, it led to a rethinking about the place of medical professionals.
6. Little House series -- by Laura Ingalls Wilder
Not just for the stories, but also because of the model of self-reliance and perseverance, as well as the political viewpoint.
7. Homeschooling for Excellence -- by the Colfaxes
Better Than School -- by Nancy Wallace
Better Late Than Early -- by the Moores
Teach Your Own -- by John Holt
I'm calling this a set, just as I'm claiming that Narnia and Little House each count as one book.
8. Day by Day We Magnify Thee -- by Luther
Best devotional book ever if you're on the 1-yr pericopes. And still good even if you're on the 3-yr series.
9. In Christ, volume 1 -- by David Scaer
Because this is the book that [ahem] entangled me with CCA.
10. Lutheran Service Book
Because in spite of all the wonderful things in it, the publication of this book is what brought about the end of my singing-all-day-every-day. And that's definitely "an influence."
In a similar vein, not being able [repeatedly!] to finish "Emily of the New Moon" influenced my life, not because of the book itself (seeing as how I never got beyond 1/4 of the way in) because that was the watershed when I gave up on reading to myself. And about 20 years later, on the other end of that spectrum, "Mitford" was when I finally began reading stories for my own enjoyment again. So I see these books as having a big influence on me even though it was because of circumstances more than content of the books themselves.
1. The Bible
2. The Lutheran Hymnal
3. Narnia series -- by C. S. Lewis
4. The Proper Distinction between Law and Gospel -- by Walther
5. Special Delivery -- by Rahima Baldwin
Because although it was about birth, it led to a rethinking about the place of medical professionals.
6. Little House series -- by Laura Ingalls Wilder
Not just for the stories, but also because of the model of self-reliance and perseverance, as well as the political viewpoint.
7. Homeschooling for Excellence -- by the Colfaxes
Better Than School -- by Nancy Wallace
Better Late Than Early -- by the Moores
Teach Your Own -- by John Holt
I'm calling this a set, just as I'm claiming that Narnia and Little House each count as one book.
8. Day by Day We Magnify Thee -- by Luther
Best devotional book ever if you're on the 1-yr pericopes. And still good even if you're on the 3-yr series.
9. In Christ, volume 1 -- by David Scaer
Because this is the book that [ahem] entangled me with CCA.
10. Lutheran Service Book
Because in spite of all the wonderful things in it, the publication of this book is what brought about the end of my singing-all-day-every-day. And that's definitely "an influence."
In a similar vein, not being able [repeatedly!] to finish "Emily of the New Moon" influenced my life, not because of the book itself (seeing as how I never got beyond 1/4 of the way in) because that was the watershed when I gave up on reading to myself. And about 20 years later, on the other end of that spectrum, "Mitford" was when I finally began reading stories for my own enjoyment again. So I see these books as having a big influence on me even though it was because of circumstances more than content of the books themselves.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Definition of "Plague"
During chapel this morning, the word "plague" came up in our Bible story. Pastor checked with the kids, "What is a plague? What does that word mean?"
A fifth-grader answered first: "That's like taxes."
A fifth-grader answered first: "That's like taxes."
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Turning My Breech Baby
When one of my babies was head-up and bottom-down, the midwife suggested I try turning him. She said that doctors can sometimes manipulate kiddoes to turn them, but by this time my munchkin was too big and too far along for that. (Also, some doctors worry about the safety of that exterior manipulation.)
The midwife told me to lie on my back three times a day, about 15 minutes at a time, elevating the pelvis, oh, about 12 inches. The theory is that gravity will help Baby out of the settled-in position, and when Mommy stands up, gravity could bring the [heavier-than-tuschie] head back down to the lower spot.
This doesn't work for everybody who has a breech baby. It's also important to have enough knowledge of your body, your baby's body, and be able to know through palpation your baby's position. You must know when Baby's head goes down so that you Stop Doing The Exercise. (Also, this is the internet, and I'm not giving medical advice, and all that jazz. I'm just saying, "This is what I did and what worked for me.")
Also, I think it's good to make your request to the Lord that He turn the baby.
This doesn't work for everybody who has a breech baby. It's also important to have enough knowledge of your body, your baby's body, and be able to know through palpation your baby's position. You must know when Baby's head goes down so that you Stop Doing The Exercise. (Also, this is the internet, and I'm not giving medical advice, and all that jazz. I'm just saying, "This is what I did and what worked for me.")
Also, I think it's good to make your request to the Lord that He turn the baby.
Monday, August 25, 2014
1200 Steps
Zoroastrianism versus Buddhism?
I'm reading Horses of Heaven right now, a novel set in central Asia around 200 BC. (I'm 3/4 of the way through, o daughters-of-mine who have been waiting who-knows-how-long for me to finish reading your book before you get a crack at it.) Zoroastrians believe that there can be joy in the world, and that the material world was created good but was infected with evil. The Buddhists, on the other hand, are more in line with the Gnostics, seeing the material world as something inferior, something to be suffered, something to be released from.
Anyway ...
the Zoroastrian dude in the story is plagued by his struggle with sin. While visiting another city, he finds himself a Zoroastrian temple. He goes to the priest who suggests a purifying rite. The Mazdayist liturgy included the line:
We just can't stand the thought that grace is ALL from the Lord and not at all earned or merited in any way, can we? That would be just too too radical.
* Footnote: That is, this teaching too often
shows up in Christian churches, even though
it is contrary to Christian teaching.
I'm reading Horses of Heaven right now, a novel set in central Asia around 200 BC. (I'm 3/4 of the way through, o daughters-of-mine who have been waiting who-knows-how-long for me to finish reading your book before you get a crack at it.) Zoroastrians believe that there can be joy in the world, and that the material world was created good but was infected with evil. The Buddhists, on the other hand, are more in line with the Gnostics, seeing the material world as something inferior, something to be suffered, something to be released from.
Anyway ...
the Zoroastrian dude in the story is plagued by his struggle with sin. While visiting another city, he finds himself a Zoroastrian temple. He goes to the priest who suggests a purifying rite. The Mazdayist liturgy included the line:
May the bright heaven, the all-blissful paradise, come toward you twelve hundred steps for every step.And I kept thinking, ... wow, that concept shows up frequently in Christianity* too. "God goes the distance; He comes to you; but [but BUT but] you have to take steps toward Him."
We just can't stand the thought that grace is ALL from the Lord and not at all earned or merited in any way, can we? That would be just too too radical.
* Footnote: That is, this teaching too often
shows up in Christian churches, even though
it is contrary to Christian teaching.
Sunday, August 24, 2014
Brain Recovery
There were weird things that happened in the wake of the stroke. For one, my skin is more sensitive. Last week I picked three pumpkins and two tomatoes and soon had another rash. There is no poison ivy mixed in with my pumpkin vines and tomato plants. There isn't! I'm not good at recognizing poison ivy and all its other poison-forms, but I do know pumpkin and tomato vines for what they are. Then in a separate incident, I got a rash from a Tegaderm covering. When the itching forced me to remove that (about 1 whole minute after the time-limit of the doctor's orders) I used a regular Bandaid. Guess what? Another rash.
Recent tests showed that the aneurysm mostly healed, but not all-the-way as we had hoped. If you can picture an aneurysm sort of like a balloon, the bubble of the balloon is filled and clotted and healed. The neck of the balloon is not. That means more monitoring than would've probably been necessary otherwise. But overall, it appears rather safe, quite unlikely to go and bleed (just as a balloon's neck isn't likely to pop).
I've been back at work for five weeks, doing mini-shifts three days a week. Now that the doctor's had a chance to take pictures of the inside of my brain, I intend to ask him to lengthen the number of hours I'm allowed to work. After a few weeks of longer part-time days, maybe he'll let me step up to a full-day with my half-days. On the one hand, I'm anxious to get back to being helpful at work and getting my income back to where it was. On the other hand, I sure am liking my mornings at home with Maggie, doing schoolwork and chores ... and not overtiring myself.
Oh, and it is absolutely maaaahrvelous, darling, to have car keys and a drivers license again!
Recent tests showed that the aneurysm mostly healed, but not all-the-way as we had hoped. If you can picture an aneurysm sort of like a balloon, the bubble of the balloon is filled and clotted and healed. The neck of the balloon is not. That means more monitoring than would've probably been necessary otherwise. But overall, it appears rather safe, quite unlikely to go and bleed (just as a balloon's neck isn't likely to pop).
I've been back at work for five weeks, doing mini-shifts three days a week. Now that the doctor's had a chance to take pictures of the inside of my brain, I intend to ask him to lengthen the number of hours I'm allowed to work. After a few weeks of longer part-time days, maybe he'll let me step up to a full-day with my half-days. On the one hand, I'm anxious to get back to being helpful at work and getting my income back to where it was. On the other hand, I sure am liking my mornings at home with Maggie, doing schoolwork and chores ... and not overtiring myself.
Oh, and it is absolutely maaaahrvelous, darling, to have car keys and a drivers license again!
Friday, August 15, 2014
Way Back When I Was Really Young
The previous post included things from the Old Days which were when my first baby was little, or not long before. This one has stuff that I remember from my childhood. At least I don't expect my kids to recall these things because "they just happened." At least I have some awareness that these are from times long-enough-ago that they're in the history books as .... well, ... history.
The milk was delivered to the milk-box sitting by our front door. The milk wagon was pulled by a horse -- the only horse-drawn vehicle I saw in town. When I was learning to walk to kindergarten by myself, I had to watch out so that I didn't step in horse poop when I crossed the street. And I loved it that the milkman put reindeer-antlers on his horse for the week or so before Christmas.
When we dialed a phone number, the phone actually had a dial.
We didn't have to check our Halloween candy before eating it to see that it was safe.
Children walked to a neighborhood school. Buses were for the kids who lived in the country. We went home for lunch too. Only the bussed kids were stuck at school during the lunch break.
The new-fangled ratings system for movies included G, M, R, and X. That's it.
McDonalds ran commercials touting that you could buy a hamburger, fries, and beverage, and still get change back from your dollar.
We sang Christmas carols (and a dreidel song) for the Christmas program (not "holiday program") at the public school.
Getting "only one cavity" at each semi-annual dentist appointment was considered a rousing success for dental care.
Bouncy children were not given Ritalin.
We played cowboys and Indians. Nobody ever heard of "native Americans."
Arcades had pinball machines. There were no joysticks or video games of any sort.
People dressed up for church, and women did not wear pants to church.
Cameras had flashbulbs. Bulbs. Y'know, the round things. Each bulb had one flash and then was finished. And getting your film developed in an hour was unheard of. It was a week or more.
Whole houses then cost less than a car now. Less even than most used cars do now.
Cars then were washed up and old by the time they had 60,000 miles on them.
Kids could go biking all over town and the countryside, riding around for hours on end, and parents didn't have to worry about whether they'd be accosted by strangers.
The bank and the liquor store gave lollipops to the kids who came in with their moms to buy dad's weekly allotment of beer.
Television was in black and white. No color.
Very few people had dishwashers. There was no such thing as a microwave.
"Negro" was a recently outdated word. The new term was "black."
The old people remembered Russia being a country, but we youngsters were up-to-date enough to know that the proper name had become USSR.
Lutherans had one hymnal. For a bunch of different synods. And we used it. No "song books."
People didn't use credit cards. The few credit cards that existed were used for limited purposes, such as a card for gasoline only.
Diapers were made of cloth, and people used pins to hold them onto the baby's tuschie.
Kids pretended to smoke our candy cigarettes and candy cigars.
There were three television networks. It was free. No cable. Just rabbit ears or the big antenna on the roof.
Some cars had seat belts, but they were seldom used. There was no such thing as bike helmets.
In a similar vein, there was no such thing as fire-retardant clothing.
"Ms." hadn't been invented yet.
At the playground, swings had chains that were 10-12' long or more, and slides were so high that it was fun even for the grown-ups to slide down. And you had to wear long pants to the park in August so that you didn't burn your legs on the metal slide.
People thought formula was the right way to feed a baby.
Mom washed our clothes in a wringer-washer and hung them on the line to dry.
Almost all my friends had stay-at-home moms.
It wasn't considered abuse if kids were spanked and had their mouths washed out with soap.
Gas ran about 30-some cents a gallon. When there was a "gas war" in town, prices could even get as low as 19 cents.
Nobody was allowed to pump their own gas. When you drove in for a fill-up, the attendant checked your oil, checked your tire pressure, washed your windows, and who-knows-what-all else.
The word "their" was a plural pronoun and only a plural pronoun. Now --as in the previous comment-- it's also used as a singular pronoun when we don't want to be "sexist" by using "he" or "she."
Only the poor, impoverished, neglected children were sent to preschool.
The milk was delivered to the milk-box sitting by our front door. The milk wagon was pulled by a horse -- the only horse-drawn vehicle I saw in town. When I was learning to walk to kindergarten by myself, I had to watch out so that I didn't step in horse poop when I crossed the street. And I loved it that the milkman put reindeer-antlers on his horse for the week or so before Christmas.
When we dialed a phone number, the phone actually had a dial.
We didn't have to check our Halloween candy before eating it to see that it was safe.
Children walked to a neighborhood school. Buses were for the kids who lived in the country. We went home for lunch too. Only the bussed kids were stuck at school during the lunch break.
The new-fangled ratings system for movies included G, M, R, and X. That's it.
McDonalds ran commercials touting that you could buy a hamburger, fries, and beverage, and still get change back from your dollar.
We sang Christmas carols (and a dreidel song) for the Christmas program (not "holiday program") at the public school.
Getting "only one cavity" at each semi-annual dentist appointment was considered a rousing success for dental care.
Bouncy children were not given Ritalin.
We played cowboys and Indians. Nobody ever heard of "native Americans."
Arcades had pinball machines. There were no joysticks or video games of any sort.
People dressed up for church, and women did not wear pants to church.
Cameras had flashbulbs. Bulbs. Y'know, the round things. Each bulb had one flash and then was finished. And getting your film developed in an hour was unheard of. It was a week or more.
Whole houses then cost less than a car now. Less even than most used cars do now.
Cars then were washed up and old by the time they had 60,000 miles on them.
Kids could go biking all over town and the countryside, riding around for hours on end, and parents didn't have to worry about whether they'd be accosted by strangers.
The bank and the liquor store gave lollipops to the kids who came in with their moms to buy dad's weekly allotment of beer.
Television was in black and white. No color.
Very few people had dishwashers. There was no such thing as a microwave.
"Negro" was a recently outdated word. The new term was "black."
The old people remembered Russia being a country, but we youngsters were up-to-date enough to know that the proper name had become USSR.
Lutherans had one hymnal. For a bunch of different synods. And we used it. No "song books."
People didn't use credit cards. The few credit cards that existed were used for limited purposes, such as a card for gasoline only.
Diapers were made of cloth, and people used pins to hold them onto the baby's tuschie.
Kids pretended to smoke our candy cigarettes and candy cigars.
There were three television networks. It was free. No cable. Just rabbit ears or the big antenna on the roof.
Some cars had seat belts, but they were seldom used. There was no such thing as bike helmets.
In a similar vein, there was no such thing as fire-retardant clothing.
"Ms." hadn't been invented yet.
At the playground, swings had chains that were 10-12' long or more, and slides were so high that it was fun even for the grown-ups to slide down. And you had to wear long pants to the park in August so that you didn't burn your legs on the metal slide.
People thought formula was the right way to feed a baby.
Mom washed our clothes in a wringer-washer and hung them on the line to dry.
Almost all my friends had stay-at-home moms.
It wasn't considered abuse if kids were spanked and had their mouths washed out with soap.
Gas ran about 30-some cents a gallon. When there was a "gas war" in town, prices could even get as low as 19 cents.
Nobody was allowed to pump their own gas. When you drove in for a fill-up, the attendant checked your oil, checked your tire pressure, washed your windows, and who-knows-what-all else.
The word "their" was a plural pronoun and only a plural pronoun. Now --as in the previous comment-- it's also used as a singular pronoun when we don't want to be "sexist" by using "he" or "she."
Only the poor, impoverished, neglected children were sent to preschool.
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Way Back When I Was Young
I was always fascinated with "how things used to be." It kinda sorta freaks me out that some things are now seen as the Old Days that were normal when I was already grown up.
There was no such things as music videos or MTV.
A whole floor of a building was dedicated to the computer. The idea of a computer that would sit on your desk was just coming in as a new-fangled idea. Certainly no iPads or Smartphones.
Food at the grocery store was not sealed. You could just unscrew a lid of a medicine bottle or a food jar and have access to the contents of the bottle. No child-proof lids either.
We didn't know yet that Darth Vader was Luke's father.
The new, high-tech video games that had just been invented were Pong, Pac-man, and Space Invaders.
Even if you had no health insurance, you could pay for the doctor and hospital when your child was born. Our bill for our first baby was $800.
Only the fussbudget worry-wart parents made their kids wear bike helmets.
We had fire drills and tornado drills at school, but never lock-down drills. There weren't murders in school.
There was no such things as music videos or MTV.
A whole floor of a building was dedicated to the computer. The idea of a computer that would sit on your desk was just coming in as a new-fangled idea. Certainly no iPads or Smartphones.
Food at the grocery store was not sealed. You could just unscrew a lid of a medicine bottle or a food jar and have access to the contents of the bottle. No child-proof lids either.
We didn't know yet that Darth Vader was Luke's father.
The new, high-tech video games that had just been invented were Pong, Pac-man, and Space Invaders.
Even if you had no health insurance, you could pay for the doctor and hospital when your child was born. Our bill for our first baby was $800.
Only the fussbudget worry-wart parents made their kids wear bike helmets.
We had fire drills and tornado drills at school, but never lock-down drills. There weren't murders in school.
What's the Moral of the Story?
So Jesus walks on the water out to the storm-tossed boat and the terrified disciples (Matt 14). With Jesus' consent and invitation, Peter gets out of the boat and begins to walk to Jesus. For a bit. Then he sank.
Moral #1: If you have faith, you can walk on water. Be like Peter. Be daring. Be bold. Do the impossible.
"Moral" #2: We try to be bold, but in reality we sink. Even though we only have itty-bitty teeny-tiny faith (vs 31), Jesus is faithful to His promise, and He rescues us and keeps us safe.
"Moral" #2 is so much more comforting than Moral #1. And it fits what happened in the story so much better than Moral #1. So why is Moral #1 touted more often?
Moral #1: If you have faith, you can walk on water. Be like Peter. Be daring. Be bold. Do the impossible.
"Moral" #2: We try to be bold, but in reality we sink. Even though we only have itty-bitty teeny-tiny faith (vs 31), Jesus is faithful to His promise, and He rescues us and keeps us safe.
"Moral" #2 is so much more comforting than Moral #1. And it fits what happened in the story so much better than Moral #1. So why is Moral #1 touted more often?
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
Come to Me
Story about Jesus walking on the water (Matt 14). The disciples think He's a ghost. Jesus says, "I am. Do not be afraid." He's not just telling them to chill out because, oh, it's just Him, their friend and teacher. He's using for Himself the name announced to Moses at the burning bush (Ex 3). And Peter responds with that name: "If You are, tell me to come to You." Jesus says, "Come."
Interesting. When Moses was wandering around Sinai/Horeb with his flock o' sheep, he saw the bush burning. The Angel of the Lord (God) called to Moses. But when Moses headed over that direction, the Lord said, "Do not draw near this place ... for it is holy ground."
Come, Peter.
Don't come, Moses.
Is it the incarnation which makes the difference?
In Christ Jesus
you who once were far off
have been brought near
by the blood of Christ. (Eph 2)
Interesting. When Moses was wandering around Sinai/Horeb with his flock o' sheep, he saw the bush burning. The Angel of the Lord (God) called to Moses. But when Moses headed over that direction, the Lord said, "Do not draw near this place ... for it is holy ground."
Come, Peter.
Don't come, Moses.
Is it the incarnation which makes the difference?
Come unto Me, all you who are
weary and heavy-laden, and I
will give you rest. (Matt 11)
In Christ Jesus
you who once were far off
have been brought near
by the blood of Christ. (Eph 2)
Decidedly NOT Up-to-Date
Our house looks like a 50-yr-old house. This does not disturb me. It is a 50-yr-old house. I could invest time and money to make my house really spiffy. Or I could save that time, energy, and money, and continue to live in a "sufficient home" instead of a "marvelous home."
(Pssst -- sometimes it might be hard to tell the difference between lazy and content.)
Oodles of friends yesterday pointed out the momastery article Give Me Gratitude or Give Me Debt. I see why: it's perfect. Even when we hide from advertising, even when we eschew trendiness, we're still assaulted by the lusts and desires to have more. That's what salesmen are for. That's what advertising executives are for. And sometimes even our friends push us toward discontent and coveting.
The momastery author was offered pointers on how to update her kitchen. After some self-doubts, after some consideration that she maybe should indeed unshabbify her kitchen, she realized something. She has a refrigerator that works. And is full. While some parents worry about their children being malnourished.
She goes on to talk about how we don't have to hike miles to bring back a bucket of decent water. It's at our fingertips. Not only that, but we use clean drinking water to wash our dirty feet. And we have microwaves. And coffee pots. The article is a fun-to-read piece on what's important and what's not.
I have a washer and dryer. At gut-level I can't fathom how much work it would take to launder clothing without our machines. My mind theoretically understands the process: make lye from ashes, make soap from lye and fat, chop wood, haul water, make fire, boil water, wash clothes by hand, rinse clothes by hand, line dry. Oh. That's all? I wash clothes by turning a couple of knobs.
And plumbing. I love hot-water heaters and indoor plumbing!
When our house goes on the market someday, it will be outdated. The only people who'll be interested are those who want to flip it ... or those (like me) who feel comfy in an old house. But hey, no sense updating a house now for the sake of selling it decades down the road. By then, it will be outdated again.
Maybe I'm content.
More likely, I'm lazy.
But either way, I don't have to deal with kitchen and bathroom renovations.
And that's worth a big hooray!
(Pssst -- sometimes it might be hard to tell the difference between lazy and content.)
Oodles of friends yesterday pointed out the momastery article Give Me Gratitude or Give Me Debt. I see why: it's perfect. Even when we hide from advertising, even when we eschew trendiness, we're still assaulted by the lusts and desires to have more. That's what salesmen are for. That's what advertising executives are for. And sometimes even our friends push us toward discontent and coveting.
The momastery author was offered pointers on how to update her kitchen. After some self-doubts, after some consideration that she maybe should indeed unshabbify her kitchen, she realized something. She has a refrigerator that works. And is full. While some parents worry about their children being malnourished.
Inside my refrigerator is FOOD. Healthy food ... When this food runs out, I'll just jump in my car to get more. It's ludicrous, really. It's like my family hits the lottery every freaking morning.
She goes on to talk about how we don't have to hike miles to bring back a bucket of decent water. It's at our fingertips. Not only that, but we use clean drinking water to wash our dirty feet. And we have microwaves. And coffee pots. The article is a fun-to-read piece on what's important and what's not.
I have a washer and dryer. At gut-level I can't fathom how much work it would take to launder clothing without our machines. My mind theoretically understands the process: make lye from ashes, make soap from lye and fat, chop wood, haul water, make fire, boil water, wash clothes by hand, rinse clothes by hand, line dry. Oh. That's all? I wash clothes by turning a couple of knobs.
And plumbing. I love hot-water heaters and indoor plumbing!
When our house goes on the market someday, it will be outdated. The only people who'll be interested are those who want to flip it ... or those (like me) who feel comfy in an old house. But hey, no sense updating a house now for the sake of selling it decades down the road. By then, it will be outdated again.
Maybe I'm content.
More likely, I'm lazy.
But either way, I don't have to deal with kitchen and bathroom renovations.
And that's worth a big hooray!
Inside my refrigerator is FOOD. Healthy food that so many parents would give anything to be able to feed their children. Almost 16,000 mama’s babies die every day from malnutrition.
Not mine. When this food runs out, I’ll just jump in my car to get
more. It’s ludicrous, really. It’s like my family hits the lottery every
freaking morning. - See more at:
http://momastery.com/blog/2014/08/11/give-liberty-give-debt/#sthash.IPdEt6uB.dpuf
Inside my refrigerator is FOOD. Healthy food that so many parents would give anything to be able to feed their children. Almost 16,000 mama’s babies die every day from malnutrition.
Not mine. When this food runs out, I’ll just jump in my car to get
more. It’s ludicrous, really. It’s like my family hits the lottery every
freaking morning. - See more at:
http://momastery.com/blog/2014/08/11/give-liberty-give-debt/#sthash.IPdEt6uB.dpuf
Inside my refrigerator is FOOD. Healthy food that so many parents would give anything to be able to feed their children. Almost 16,000 mama’s babies die every day from malnutrition.
Not mine. When this food runs out, I’ll just jump in my car to get
more. It’s ludicrous, really. It’s like my family hits the lottery every
freaking morning. - See more at:
http://momastery.com/blog/2014/08/11/give-liberty-give-debt/#sthash.IPdEt6uB.dpuf
Monday, August 11, 2014
Weekend
Andrew, Olivia, Katie, and the kids came over Saturday afternoon to hang out. We cooked many batches of homemade French fries; I wanted to use up any potatoes from the garden which looked blemished so that the rest of them would store well.
Then Katie took Zoe to pick up her new glasses. It sounds like the child still needs to get used to them; the world looks completely different for her.
Gary, Maggie, Katie, and the kids had gone to "Heritage Days" on Saturday morning. On Sunday afternoon Gary and Maggie visited again with some friends from church. Katie said the fake-surgery on the battlefield was portrayed so well that she felt a little sick to her stomach.
Gary said that the girls especially enjoyed the tent with old-timey games.
I was struggling with headache over the weekend. I didn't get much accomplished (other than French fries) on Saturday. Sunday I tried to order photos from Shutterfly and it just wouldn't work for me. Not a good first impression of their website! Eventually I hit the couch and spent the rest of the day watching television to make myself rest.
We found two good movies. On the same day. Hooray! "Breaking Away" is set in the late 70's in Bloomington, Indiana. Nice story about the relationship between the townies and the college kids. The other movie was about Queen Victoria after her husband died: "Mrs Brown."
Poison-ivy rash is worse again today. I think I'm going to have to clean the couch AGAIN. Seriously? How long is it going to take to solve this?
I was struggling with headache over the weekend. I didn't get much accomplished (other than French fries) on Saturday. Sunday I tried to order photos from Shutterfly and it just wouldn't work for me. Not a good first impression of their website! Eventually I hit the couch and spent the rest of the day watching television to make myself rest.
We found two good movies. On the same day. Hooray! "Breaking Away" is set in the late 70's in Bloomington, Indiana. Nice story about the relationship between the townies and the college kids. The other movie was about Queen Victoria after her husband died: "Mrs Brown."
Poison-ivy rash is worse again today. I think I'm going to have to clean the couch AGAIN. Seriously? How long is it going to take to solve this?
Saturday, August 09, 2014
That Gnawing Fear
All through the Psalms we hear praise for God's having brought His people through the terrible events that befell them.
So why don't I do that?
Let's be logical.
Let's be reasonable.
Here's how it often works:
Bad stuff happens.
God rescues us.
We are taught afresh that He cares (!) and that He will help (!).
So why do we panic then at the thought of the next bad thing?
The novel I'm currently reading is set in central Asia in the 200s BC. The king hated opposition; it made him angry; it made him frightened.
Yes.
That's it.
Upside-down though it be.
Plots and suffering and tragedy make us less certain of our own power. It should not, however, make us any less certain of God's power.
Personally, I'd be more comfortable with a life where nothing went wrong, than with a life where God keeps rescuing me. But that wouldn't be the Christian life, now, would it?
So why don't I do that?
Let's be logical.
Let's be reasonable.
Here's how it often works:
Bad stuff happens.
God rescues us.
We are taught afresh that He cares (!) and that He will help (!).
So why do we panic then at the thought of the next bad thing?
The novel I'm currently reading is set in central Asia in the 200s BC. The king hated opposition; it made him angry; it made him frightened.
He had struggled for power all his life, and every man he'd defeated and killed made him more afraid. One day he would not discover a plot in time, and with every victory he grew less certain of his own power. (Horses of Heaven by Gillian Bradshaw, p 119)"With every victory he grew less certain of his own power."
Yes.
That's it.
Upside-down though it be.
Plots and suffering and tragedy make us less certain of our own power. It should not, however, make us any less certain of God's power.
Personally, I'd be more comfortable with a life where nothing went wrong, than with a life where God keeps rescuing me. But that wouldn't be the Christian life, now, would it?
Friday, August 08, 2014
Facebook Friends
I now have nearly as many "friend requests" as I have friends.
I struggle to cope with my computer addiction. I don't want to miss what's being talked about. I hate being geographically-distant from friends, and emails/FB/blogs help me stay a little bit in-the-loop. Because of my lack of self-discipline, I use other self-controls. One scheme is to limit myself to fewer-than-100 Facebook friends.
My self-imposed rule is that FB friends are
~people I lived with (parents, siblings, children),
~people who live with people I lived with (in-laws, some of the nieces/nephews)
~a few close friends
~some of my kids' best-buddies
~a few folks from church
If I'm friends with the wife, I probably am not friends with the husband too. I figure I'll hear news of their family from one of them.
Gary and I have a nice balance between our FB accounts. I have few friends, but I can actually keep up with them. That way, Gary hears about interesting things he might not otherwise notice. Gary, on the other hand, has loads of friends. This means he can contact people for me through his account, or let me see pictures, or hunt up information for people that are my in-real-life friends (or acquaintances) but aren't my FB friends.
So if I haven't accepted your FB-friend request, don't be hurt. It's nothing personal. It's my feeble attempt to do some chores and interact with my family instead of spending my time glued to the computer.
I struggle to cope with my computer addiction. I don't want to miss what's being talked about. I hate being geographically-distant from friends, and emails/FB/blogs help me stay a little bit in-the-loop. Because of my lack of self-discipline, I use other self-controls. One scheme is to limit myself to fewer-than-100 Facebook friends.
My self-imposed rule is that FB friends are
~people I lived with (parents, siblings, children),
~people who live with people I lived with (in-laws, some of the nieces/nephews)
~a few close friends
~some of my kids' best-buddies
~a few folks from church
If I'm friends with the wife, I probably am not friends with the husband too. I figure I'll hear news of their family from one of them.
Gary and I have a nice balance between our FB accounts. I have few friends, but I can actually keep up with them. That way, Gary hears about interesting things he might not otherwise notice. Gary, on the other hand, has loads of friends. This means he can contact people for me through his account, or let me see pictures, or hunt up information for people that are my in-real-life friends (or acquaintances) but aren't my FB friends.
So if I haven't accepted your FB-friend request, don't be hurt. It's nothing personal. It's my feeble attempt to do some chores and interact with my family instead of spending my time glued to the computer.
"It Hurts When You Brush My Hair"
I hereby publicly apologize to my daughters when I told them emphatically, "NO, it does NOT."
When your scalp is not used to being brushed,
when your hair is not very long,
those bristles may indeed hurt a person's head.
On the one hand, I'm glad to know this. Hee hee hee -- it means I have hair long enough to need brushing -- y'know, just so that it doesn't stand up in spikes and make look all punk-rock.
On the other hand, as I hauled out the brush and began to smooth down the spikes, my first thought was, "Oh man! The girls were right. This does hurt."
Oh, the heartlessness of mothers...
When your scalp is not used to being brushed,
when your hair is not very long,
those bristles may indeed hurt a person's head.
On the one hand, I'm glad to know this. Hee hee hee -- it means I have hair long enough to need brushing -- y'know, just so that it doesn't stand up in spikes and make look all punk-rock.
On the other hand, as I hauled out the brush and began to smooth down the spikes, my first thought was, "Oh man! The girls were right. This does hurt."
Oh, the heartlessness of mothers...
Thursday, August 07, 2014
Concord and Peace
"Give to all nations concord and peace" (from the Litany).
Christians over in Babylon (aka, Iraq) could obtain "peace" by submitting to the demands of ISIS. They could have "peace" by renouncing Jesus and converting to the [ahem] peaceful religion of Islam ... whose adherents are currently robbing, torturing, and murdering those who won't convert or flee. (This NBC story has no gory pictures obvious on the site, and doesn't contain all the stomach-turning details of many other news reports. Fair warning: I didn't check the videos, to know what awful things might be contained there.)
Jesus said, "Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled. Neither let it be afraid."
Nope. His peace isn't the kind of peace we usually want. Peace and calm. No conflict. No pain. No suffering. That's the peace we long for: "Can't we all just get along?"
Thank God when we are permitted that kind of peace. But Jesus' peace can be way different: "not as the world gives."
And then we pray the Litany. "Give to all nations concord and peace." Lord, we'd sure like the happy and comfortable kind of peace where everybody is polite and helpful and non-confrontational. But if that's not Your will in every time and every place, we beg You to give to all nations the peace that Jesus provides in the forgiveness of sins and oneness with Him.
Do the Mashed Potato!
Yukon Gold versus Russets.
Organic versus standard chemical-laden large-farming techniques.
Backyard versus trucked-from-Idaho.
Dug-this-morning versus sitting-in-a-plastic-bag-for-over-a-month.
They look different.
They taste different.
And yet,
I continue to buy food from the store.
The gardening is SO superior.
But it takes time and energy that I don't have (at least, not in the amount I desire).
Same for the farmer's market: I should go there more frequently, but the time, energy, and money are too often more than I can come up with.
Wednesday, August 06, 2014
Nanna's Hat
No. Not really. He was just happy to see my hat.
Yes, he likes me, and he will smile and laugh and be happy when he looks me in the eye. But if he looks me straight in the hat-brim instead, then watch out world! because sparkles will be dancing from baby boy's eyes.
And yes, I'm vain.
It's Kind of Peaceful Being Grounded
This evening I get to drive to church, under Gary's supervision. I have SO been looking forward to being able to drive again! I will be able to take myself to work and to church and to the grocery store.
And yet ...
yesterday and this morning ...
I keep thinking that it's kind of been nice not going anywhere. I hate running errands. Introverts love to hole-up at home. For the last couple of months, when I get up in the morning, I've not had to decide which errands to run, which places to go. I've been stuck at home, except for the times my family has graciously chauffeured me to church or to doctors or to those occasional errands which managed to pile up enormously.
As of tomorrow, it's back to normal -- deciding which errands musts be crammed into the day along with all the other responsibilities.
As anxiously as I've been awaiting the return of my driver's license, I'm surprised by the sense that I'll also be losing quietness and calmness.
And yet ...
yesterday and this morning ...
I keep thinking that it's kind of been nice not going anywhere. I hate running errands. Introverts love to hole-up at home. For the last couple of months, when I get up in the morning, I've not had to decide which errands to run, which places to go. I've been stuck at home, except for the times my family has graciously chauffeured me to church or to doctors or to those occasional errands which managed to pile up enormously.
As of tomorrow, it's back to normal -- deciding which errands musts be crammed into the day along with all the other responsibilities.
As anxiously as I've been awaiting the return of my driver's license, I'm surprised by the sense that I'll also be losing quietness and calmness.
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
It Still Itches
Still fighting the poison ivy. The rash has improved, but I keep breaking out in new patches.
What can I wash next?!
I've scrubbed the couch with Fels-Naphtha soap, let it dry, and then shampooed it regular-like. I washed the cushion on my wooden chair. I have washed blankets and sheets and pajamas and jeans and slips repeatedly (in Fels-Naphtha). This morning I've had the bed sheets soaking in a strong F-N solution; I'm going to wear these sheets out with all the washing.
I washed the handles of all the outdoor tools that have been used in the last couple of weeks. I soaked the garden gloves in F-N solution and washed them repeatedly. I used a F-N solution on the door knobs, light switches, refrigerator doors, faucets, remote controls, etc.
I even washed the cat. Poor Athena.
I need to spend more time sitting on the couch, reading and watching TV and resting, applying the astringent that dries up the sores and relieves some of the itch. But I also need to figure out how I keep being re-exposed to the poison-ivy oil ... because it seems like it should be Taken Care Of by now!
What can I wash next?!
I've scrubbed the couch with Fels-Naphtha soap, let it dry, and then shampooed it regular-like. I washed the cushion on my wooden chair. I have washed blankets and sheets and pajamas and jeans and slips repeatedly (in Fels-Naphtha). This morning I've had the bed sheets soaking in a strong F-N solution; I'm going to wear these sheets out with all the washing.
I washed the handles of all the outdoor tools that have been used in the last couple of weeks. I soaked the garden gloves in F-N solution and washed them repeatedly. I used a F-N solution on the door knobs, light switches, refrigerator doors, faucets, remote controls, etc.
I even washed the cat. Poor Athena.
I need to spend more time sitting on the couch, reading and watching TV and resting, applying the astringent that dries up the sores and relieves some of the itch. But I also need to figure out how I keep being re-exposed to the poison-ivy oil ... because it seems like it should be Taken Care Of by now!
Memories
It's not "throw-back Thursday" so we'll call it "toss-back Tuesday." (Do ya buy it? Do you, huh?) For some reason, I've been having a grand time looking at old pictures recently.
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| Katie and Maggie |
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| On the picnic table. But why? |
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| Wedding [cheese-]cake. |
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| Happy day with happy friends. |
All Fifteen of Us
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| Rachel and Matt; Gary; Maggie; Alia and Zoe; Andrew and Olivia; Susan; Mandy and Paul; Matthias, Katie, and Nathan; Philip |
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